


Pulled From the Keys?

by WrandomWriter



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 19:31:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9339872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrandomWriter/pseuds/WrandomWriter





	

I awoke to my alarm letting me know it was time to wake up and go to school. Most eleven-year-old girls are excited to go to their elementary schools and see their friends and have a good time learning about math, science, history. But me, I am overly excited to go to my advanced school for the arts to practice piano and learn things like how to behave properly on a stage. Ever since I was seven years old, the piano had come easy to me. I could play any song and read any music sheets thrown my way. My parents said I was a brilliant piano prodigy, but I am still, to me, just a normal girl. 

My dad, Daniel, was a surfing instructor widely known for training some of the professional surfers that lived in our area. He got good business because where we live, in Hawaii, surfing is a popular pastime. He had wanted to take me out on the water and teach me to surf for a long time, but I always refused. Ever since I read a book about a surfer named Bethany Hamilton, who got her arm eaten off by a shark, I never wanted anything to do with the ocean. My dad tells me that things like that are not common and he is right, but I am still nervous about it. 

My mom, Alexandra, is a marine biologist. I always wanted to be like her when I grew up. She was always bubbly and enthusiastic about her job. Her job as a mother though is even better. She says I remind her of a cute baby seal they rescued from a lobster trap; we were both shy and loved to eat!  
When I grow up, I always wanted to become a pianist. I would travel and show the whole world my talent. I haven’t seen any of the world outside of Hawaii. We are sort of like outcasts from the rest of society. 

This morning I awoke confused as to why my alarm sounded as today was the first day of summer break at my performing arts school. We would take a break from school for about three months and my teacher, Mrs. Robinson, told us to try something new. I told only my father this information when he picked me up from school. I had a feeling of what my dad had planned for my first day off.

I woke up early this morning eager to take my daughter out surfing for the first time. Her teacher at her school had said for the students to try something new and this was perfect. Not only would she be doing her homework but we will have a chance to bond over something fun. I just hope she wasn’t mad that I planned the whole thing without her. I also decided on taking her older brother Mark with us. He needed to practice his surfing anyway; he wouldn’t need my help so I can easily focus on Hannah. I suddenly grew tired of waiting on them. 

“Mark, Hannah! Let’s go, we need to get there before eight! Put a hustle in it!” I yelled.

I was overjoyed to see Hannah and Mark, sleepy eyed, walk into the kitchen already in their rash guards. I was so excited.

“Dad you could’ve told me at least. I am nervous.” Hannah said to me as we exited the house and piled into my truck with three surf boards in the back.

“Come on chicken, it will be fine.” Mark said to Hannah from the front seat.

Hannah replied, “I am ready. It’s just I don’t know how.” She looked at me in the front seat as we pulled out from our drive way and onto the road leading to the beach. I paid a lot of money to get a house this close to the beach.

I looked through the review mirror at Hannah and replied in my most calm voice, trying to hide my excitement, “You’ll do great. I will be next to you the whole time.” We continued to drive for about ten minutes until we pulled up to the parking lot overlooking the beach. The waters looked so clear and the tide was just right. Today was going to be a good day.  
We all piled out of my dad’s blue truck and we each took a surf board. Mine was one my dad got me for my birthday last year that I never thought I would use. I approached the water and stuck my feet in and let the waves run over my feet, covering my toes in white sea foam. I stared out into the distance and saw the sun just beginning to pull itself up over the sky to watch over little girls who were about to do something for the first time. My brother ran past me and into the water, duck diving under the waves as he went father out into the ocean. His wetsuit disappearing and reappearing as he got smaller and smaller. My dad came up next to me.  
He looked down at me and asked, “Are you ready?”

I looked back at him and, in the strongest tone I could stifle out, replied, “As ready as I’ll ever be.” We walked slowly into the cold water churning around us. He taught me the basics of how to stand, how to duck dive, how to maneuver around on the floral covered board. Once we had spent about an hour catching small waves, barley off the shore, we made our way into deeper waters where I couldn’t touch the ocean floor. I started to again become nervous. My father, clearly noticing my look of discomfort, turned his board to me and said, “You got this, Hannah. You are the smartest kid I know. Please don’t tell your brother that,” he paused and smiled to see that he had made me laugh before continuing, “Let’s just take it slow.” 

We spent more time duck diving over big waves, so that I could learn more about staying afloat. I actually caught a few normal sized waves and was getting more confident. I told my father I was starting to get the hang of it. At that moment a huge wave approached us and my father duck dived under it. In panic, knowing it was too late to duck dive, began to perform the procedure my dad showed me on how to actually catch a wave. I was in position and time seemed to stop as the wave grew around me. Without thinking I stood up.  
After teaching Hannah some basic moves in the deep waters, we were caught off guard by a huge wave. I duck dived under it and expected Hannah to do the same, but she didn’t emerge from under the wave. I began to panic. I started to paddle franticly towards the wave, but stopped to notice Mark, on shore in the middle of a break, cheering. From the top of the wave, Hannah popped up, and wiped out. I paddled over to her and she got back onto her board.

Not sure what exactly happened, I asked, “Are you okay Hannah?”

She looked up at me, clearly overwhelmed with happiness and replied, “Dad, I caught that wave. I did it!” We whooped and cheered, happy to have had a fun day. I, clearly getting hungry, asked Hannah, “What do you say we head to the taco shop downtown. I could eat a burrito for each of you and Mark.” Agreeing to a lunch in town we headed towards shore.  
We were heading towards the shore, eager to eat at Roberto’s Taco Shop downtown. I was so happy I was able to succeed in bonding with my dad and catching a ginormous wave! We entered a part of the ocean close enough to shore that it was up to my chest and my dad’s waist. My dad was a little way in front of me when I felt something brush against my leg. It felt soft but had a few indentations in it when it pasted me. Beginning to feel a bit nervous, I looked forwards at my dad and said, “Dad, something just bumped my leg.” He looked back at me and replied, “It’s fine honey, probably just a fish or something. You know there are pretty big fish in this ocean. I caught a few in my day.” He said this with a surprisingly calm tone. I just continued wading towards the shore line, taking my father’s word for it just being a big fish. My father reached the shore and started cleaning off his board as I entered water up to my waste.

All of a sudden I felt a sharp pain in my leg. I panicked and, knowing what was happening as I saw blood staring to cloud up in the water around me, screamed so loud I thought I would never talk again. My father looked up at me and immediately started running my way. He was almost to me when I was pulled under the water. Everything went black.  
Once I looked up at my screaming daughter, my little girl, I knew that her worst fears were coming true. I ran towards her trying to get there as quick as I could. Then, her beautiful face now full of fear, was pulled under the water. I picked up speed and noticed Mark in my footsteps in tears. I reached the blood filled water and reached around. Once my hand had entered the water, a small shark zipped away from the blood water in lightning speed, leaving a faint trail of blood after it. I reached around, blindly, in the water until I felt Hannah’s upper arm. I grabbed her upper arms and started dragging her towards the shore. I didn’t have the courage to look at her yet, but from Marks reaction of more sobs I could only assume worse. I looked at him and, trying to stay together yelled, “Mark, Mark, go up to the car and call 911. Hurry! Call your mom too. Tell her to meet us at the hospital!” With that, Mark raced out of the water and towards the car.

I got Hannah to the beach and a few men came to help out. I looked at her. She was covered in blood, unconscious. She had bite marks all over her legs and a few small ones on her shoulder, but what made me go into panic was a deep bite on her stomach area and……. her left hand was no longer there. I started to cry. I cried knowing I might lose a daughter or that my daughter lost her passion. I cried and I didn’t care who knew it. One of the men who came to help had wrapped a beach towel around Hannah’s stomach and I myself wrapped my rash guard on her hand. She looked so pale. She looked so small. How could this happen to such a young and innocent child?

Mark raced back down to the beach and yelled, “The ambulance is almost here I can hear it! Mom is on her way to the hospital, she will be there before us!” I thanked the men for their help and looked once again at my baby girl. Mark came to me and hugged me tight. He was fifteen years old and had already seen trauma that I couldn’t fathom a kid his age seeing. The ambulance arrived and paramedics loaded Hannah onto a gurney and into the back of the ambulance. Mark and I got into my truck and sped after the ambulance on the way to the hospital. 

I slipped in and out of consciousness. I was in an ambulance I assumed, judging by the paramedic frantically tending to me. I went unconscious again, but woke up facing up at lights going past me really fast. I assumed I was in the hospital. I looked around me and saw a faint outline of Mark, my dad, my mom, and a few doctors and nurses trying to keep me from dying. I started to cry, but then slipped out of consciousness again.

Mark and I arrived at the hospital to find my wife in tears, waiting for us. I hugged her tight, bracing her for what she was about to witness. The doors busted open and Hannah, still covered in blood, was raced passed us and into a room we weren’t allowed to enter. Alexandra looked at me then just buried her face into my shoulder, sobbing.

We were to wait in the waiting room until Hannah was awake from the numerous operations performed on her. A nurse had told us that she lost over 45% of her blood along with her hand. Her small precious hand I would never hold again. We waited for about a day and half going home then to the hospital over and over again. We were finally allowed to see her.  
The nurse led us to Hannah’s room and before letting us enter she warned, “She is still asleep and probably won’t wake for a little while but I think you will be more comfortably in her room. And when she does wake up, be there for her. She lost her hand and that is something that will take time to recover from.” After this, we were let in. Hannah was lying down asleep, with bandages all over her arms and on her hand. I could only assume there were bandages on her legs and stomach too. She looked almost peaceful. We waited until the next morning when she finally woke up.

I woke up to an annoying beeping sound. At first I thought it was my alarm clock, telling me it was time to go to school, but then I remembered. I looked around to see my mom and dad sitting in chairs next to my bed and saw Mark standing next to my dad staring at me. I looked up at the two bravest men I knew and, not know what else to do, said, “Thank you.” They looked at me and Mark smiled. I loved my family so much. 

I sat up and got situated when I noticed something didn’t feel right. I took my left arm and pulled it out from under my blankets and saw that my hand was gone.  
I was suddenly crying harder than I had ever cried before. Harder than I cried when my dog, Rufus, died; harder than I cried when I broke my first keyboard. I was never going to play the piano again. Mark jumped up and pulled me into a hug. He held onto me and I held onto him. My mom and dad joined in and I just kept crying and crying until I fell asleep late that night.  
................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

I was surfing. I was catching the best wave in the world. Then I was playing the piano. I was playing my favorite piece to perform: Prelude in E Major. Then I was in the ocean  
surrounded by blood.

I awoke with a scream and saw my dad next to my bed. I stared at him until he said, “It was just a dream you are safe with me.”  
I closed my eyes and thought to myself, before drifting off once again, it wasn’t a dream, it was real.

Hannah slept for a while. She still looked so pale, so calm, so beautiful. I am worried for her. What if she never recovers from losing her hand?  
My wife and son had been staying by Hannah’s side waiting for the day when she was cleared to come home. We were all eager to be a normal family again. Well, almost normal.  
We were all sitting by Hannah’s bed, watching her sleep, peacefully. Hannah’s doctor walked into the room and asked to see me and my wife. He let us pass through the doorway and then he closed the door slowly and quietly as to not wake Hannah. He looked at us and said, “So, Hannah seems to be for the most part recovered. She is cleared to come home today, but you will need to take it easy on her as she lost her hand, as you know. Also, the gash on her stomach was very deep and we were able to close it up with stitches, but it still can get infected so be sure to change the bandages frequently and don’t get it wet. She is scheduled to come back in about two months to have her stitches removed.”  
I was overwhelmed with happiness that Hannah could finally come home. My wife and I reentered the hospital room to see Mark and Hannah, now awake, talking. Hannah noticed our presents and said, “Hey mom. Hey dad. Can I come home now? I want to go home.” She looked desperate to be in her own bed and her own room.

Alexandra looked at Hannah and replied, “Yes baby, you can finally come home. You know, Sammy misses you lots.” My wife reminded Hannah of our family dog, Sammy. After Rufus, our old dog, passed, Mark and Hannah saved money from chores for a long time until together, they had enough money to buy a dog named Sammy they had been looking at in the pet store for a long while.

My wife helped Hannah get into some shorts and a t-shirt along with some flip flops. We then signed her out of the hospital and Mark and I piled into my truck while Alexandra and Hannah got into my wife’s car. We started driving towards home. 

We arrived home. I walked into the kitchen then into my bedroom through the hall. I walked in my room. My bed is directly in the middle of the room against a window in the back wall. To the right of my bed I my closet in which there is also a bookshelf. Finally, I look to the left to see my piano. I drop my backpack I had with me on my bed and sat on the piano bench. I looked to the sheet stand to see what I was playing last. I lifted my only hand to the keys. I played part of the song but stopped when my other hand was needed. I started to cry. I would never play the piano again. I couldn’t play half of a song. I quickly wiped my tears away as my mom walked into my room.

She looked at me and said, “Riley wants to come over and see you. She is worried sick. She is on her way now.” My mother said clearly in a hurry to clean up the house because of a guest. Riley is my best friend who attends my performing arts school with as a singer. She is also really good at violin and dancing too. She has always been really talented.  
I waited on my bed just sitting and starring at my piano when I heard Riley come down the halls. She entered my room and hugged me. Her normal attired of a band t-shirt of some kind along with black jeans and a flannel around her waist gave me comfort. It made me feel things were almost normal. 

Riley looked at me and said, “I missed you. How are you feeling?”

I replied, “I feel fine. It’s just, I will never play the piano again.” I felt tears start to fill my eyes, and Riley took my hand and pulled me to the piano and sat me down next to her on the bench. She looked at me in her usual determined way and assured me, “You can do this and I will help you.” We spent the rest of the day at the piano playing chords and few songs to get me back in the tune of things. I started to get it again. Riley ended up spending the night so that we could work on the piano some more. 

The next day we were eating breakfast in the back yard on my family’s old table and chairs looking at the ocean that was across the road. Riley, noticing that I was deep in thought about something, was quick to change the subject and said, “Hey you know we should probably start our essays for class.” 

I looked at her and, confused, replied, “What essays?” Riley looked back at me and answered, “We are supposed to write an essay on what we tried that was new. We don’t really have to do a big essay; we can just write about what we did.” I loved to write, but this story was going to be the hardest thing I will ever do.

Hannah spent the rest of her summer break trying to play the piano and writing her paper. I don’t know what she is writing about, but I hope it works out okay. Her injury on her stomach was getting better and there was no sign of infection which made me feel a bit better. 

When it came to her hand, things were getting extraordinarily better. She seemed way happier than when she first came home. My wife and I were excited to have our little girl back to normal once again, but on the other hand things will never be normal again.

I walked into my school for the first day back from summer. My teacher says I can still take piano at this school, and that I should look for other hobbies to do as well to keep my mind off of how difficult things will inevitably get. Mrs. Robinson has always been straight forward, sarcastic and funny. I missed her.

We all took our seats in the theatre room as that is where we read our papers, when we wrote them, out loud. I listened to many people who have said things like playing a new song or going to visit a new place. Then Riley told the class about learning a new trick on her skate board, and then it was my turn.

I walked up to the stage that was empty except for a few boxes full of props and a microphone hooked up just for the essay readings. My teacher always went all out for the smallest things we did in class. I took a deep breath and began to read my essay:

“Over summer break, my father, my brother, and I were going to go surfing together to try something new and to spend time with each other. I was so excited to learn how to do something new, but I have always been afraid of the ocean.  
When we first started, I was doing great. I caught a few small waves and then my father wanted to go into the deep water. All of a sudden a giant wave came at us. I didn’t think and just stood up. I was surfing. I had caught a huge wave!  
After this, we got very hungry and headed back towards shore so we could go to town and eat. Once I got to water at my chest, something bumped my leg. My father said it was just a big fish so I continued to wade to water at my waist. Then my life changed forever.  
A shark attacked me and took with it my hand and a huge part of my stomach. I stayed in the hospital for a long while recovering from my accident. When I returned home and started trying to play piano again, I realized what I truly did over the summer was overcoming my fear and persevering through crisis.  
If you ever go through a time where you feel that life is too hard and that you will never be able to do something you love ever again, just remember that you can do anything you want to do and never give up.

I finished my essay and looked out at my classmates and teacher. After a pause, the room erupted with clapping and cheering. Perhaps I wasn’t pulled away from the keys, but rather pulled closer to the keys.


End file.
